


I Know You Know That I'm Not Telling the Truth

by talesofstories



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Also Lilia is not in this which is a crime, Alternate Universe - Psych Fusion, Did I mention fluff yet because I am not here for angst, Fluff, Georgi is so much drama and I adore him, Heartbreak and angst are for people whose lives are far more together than mine, M/M, No Angst, but if she were in it I'm pretty sure there wouldn't be a plot, only fluff, phichit is the best wingman, she would not stand for this nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofstories/pseuds/talesofstories
Summary: "When the police tried to arrest Phichit and he instead managed to convince him that he was psychic and that was how he solved all those cases, Yuuri knew it wouldn’t end well. Honestly, he was waiting for the day when the police caught on and arrested Phichit and he guessed himself—he wasn’t going to let Phichit go to jail by himself; he wasn’t heartless."Someone is trying to murder Broadway actor Victor Nikiforov, meaning it is up to Phichit Chulanont—detective, fake psychic, best best friend—to solve the case and get his best friend together with his idol.





	I Know You Know That I'm Not Telling the Truth

When the police tried to arrest Phichit and he instead managed to convince him that he was psychic and that was how he solved all those cases, Yuuri knew it wouldn’t end well. Honestly, he was waiting for the day when the police caught on and arrested Phichit and he guessed himself—he wasn’t going to let Phichit go to jail by himself; he wasn’t heartless, at which sentiments Phichit looked at his best friend fondly and informed him that he wouldn’t allow Yuuri to go to jail with him as Yuuri was a marshmallow who couldn’t handle the clink—but until then, he was not going to leave his best friend alone even if his best friend clearly was trying to kill him with all these cases. Take, for example, the case they found themselves in now. A beautiful man shows up at the Psych office, throws himself at their feet, and claims someone wants to kill him, and now Yuuri’s pretty positive he’s developed a heart condition. And all Phichit does is laugh at him. And then decide that Beautiful Man should be under twenty-four hour surveillance, twenty-four hour surveillance provided by Phichit and Yuuri, but mostly Yuuri because Phichit has Important Psychic Business To Do, Yuuri. At which Beautiful Man, whose career Yuuri has followed for years because how could he not, nods eagerly, smiles a heart-shaped smile at Yuuri, and asks that Yuuri please take care of him.

Yep. Definite heart palpitations.

* * *

Phichit could tell the man was scared when he walked in and asked for his help, but he could also tell that the man had the good taste to be immediately smitten by his best friend. It began with a few glances away from Phichit and towards Yuuri, but those glances increased by the moment until he was basically telling his story to a Yuuri so determined not to make eye contact that he slowly sunk deeper into his chair with every minute that passed. Clearly, Phichit had a lot of work to do.

“Mr. Nikiforov—“ “Call me Victor.” “—Victor, then, while my associate and I promise we will do everything to protect you and get this murderer off your back, I have to ask: What made you come to us?”

“Well, I tried getting my angry police officer friend to help me, and he just slammed the door in my face. And then he opened it again and said I shouldn’t waste his time. And then he slammed it again. And then he opened it and said he knew a couple idiots who had time to waste and sent me here.”

Phichit shares a sharp glance with Yuuri. “You know Yurio?”

And the sound of his best friend speaking for the first time clearly does things to the man because he blinks a few times before he can manage a “Who?”

“Detective Yuri Plisetsky,” Phichit explains smoothly as he squashes his desire to laugh. “We had two Yuris, so he got the nickname.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I know Yuri Plisetsky. He’s basically my younger brother, except not. It’s complicated.”

Phichit gets that. Yuuri is his smol son and no one will ever love him and want to strangle him as much as Phichit will. Phichit also knows Yurio and the incredible walking headache the man is. It’s a miracle his partner, Detective Mila Babicheva, hasn’t killed him yet. Phichit and Yuuri would help her hide the body if she snapped, but she seems weirdly impervious to his insults and only laughs at him until he starts blustering, which is frankly hilarious.

“Well, Victor, I will begin investigating your case immediately. However, we want to keep you safe, and I don’t think you joining me as I get close enough to the people around you to sense what is really going on will be the best way to do so. So, I will leave you in the capable hands of my associate here and give you updates through him as they arrive.”

Victor looks ecstatic. Yuuri looks like he just watched Phichit slaughter his dog, which Phichit would never do to cute little Vicchan. “Umm, Phichit? Can I have a word?”

Despite his best efforts, and Phichit can see those efforts in the reflection off the glass windows fronting his office, Victor can’t hear the two minutes of whispered debate that’s carried on fifteen feet in front of him. Yuuri and Phichit have known each other their entire lives. They can have a complete conversation simply by moving their eyebrows, and they can have a whispered argument that Phichit, naturally, comes out the winner of without beautiful Russian men who at least one person wants dead hearing any of it.

They turn around in tandem, and Yuuri gives his best effort at a smile. “I have a ballet class in twenty minutes, if you wouldn’t mind joining me?”

The grin Victor flashes at that could blind a lesser man, or at least one who isn’t already mostly blind. Yuuri still looks stunned.

* * *

Yuuri is beautiful. Yuuri is far superior to the other Yuri, who is not beautiful or kind and who does not teach small children how to point their toes properly and move between the different ballet positions with the patience of a saint. Yuuri, _his_ Yuuri, is and does all those things, and Victor needs to know everything about him _right now_.

As soon as the small children leave with their harassed-looking parents, he pounces.

“So Yuuri, what are we going to tell people? Why am I here? What am I to you? Am I your new coworker? Your friend? Your boyfriend? You and Phichit aren’t dating, right?”

With each question, Yuuri’s eyes get just a shade larger, his blinks come just a touch faster.

He looks a bit like a scared deer, and he is _beautiful_.

But Victor’s going to have to work on the scared part.

“You don’t have to _be_ anything, Victor! Just be yourself!”

And oh, that might be the nicest and best thing anyone has ever said to him, but it really doesn’t answer any of his questions, and he’s just going to point that out to Yuuri and reiterate the thing about Phichit when a chirp from Yuuri’s phone has Yuuri and his big eyes walking away from Victor, over to the corner where his bag sits holding his phone, and then staring at his phone in bemusement as three more chirps come through. Victor’s just about to ask about the chirps and the look on Yuuri’s face when his own phone begins demanding his attention. It’s really rude that these phones don’t seem to want him to talk to Yuuri—and he can’t even use them to talk to Yuuri yet because he hasn’t even had a chance to ask for Yuuri’s number—when Yuuri interrupts his grab for his own phone with “But apparently we are dating, we have been for months, and it’s only since your show came here that we’ve been able to spend much time together, which is why your fans don’t know about us. Until now.”

Victor looks at his phone while still processing this information and sees the texts from his publicist demanding to know what’s going on. Those texts contain links that he blindly opens, all of which share the breaking news of Broadway star Victor Nikiforov’s whirlwind romance with former premier danseur Yuuri Katsuki and some which speculate that Victor’s decision to leave Broadway and go on tour for the first time in more than a decade is a result of this romance.

A soft, sheepish voice interrupts his digestion of all this new information: “Umm, Phichit is also pretty good with the internet? And, well, making it support what he needs it to?”

Victor looks up into the softest, loveliest eyes he’s ever seen, the eyes of his boyfriend—and a question tickles at the back of his mind, one that he shoves back for a later, more convenient, less he-is-right-in-front-of-me time: Has Yuuri fake-dated other men who hired Phichit, or is he the first?—and he’s just scanned a fan debate arguing whether they met over their shared love of poodles—his publicist is _thorough_ and she deserves another raise because now he knows Yuuri loves poodles and he should really introduce him to Makkachin—and he is in love.

* * *

(Later, he will tell Chris this, that he knew he was in love exactly two hours and seventeen minutes after meeting the love of his life, and Chris will laugh at him and say he’s being ridiculous. But then he will actually meet the Love of Victor’s Life, and Chris will nod and say, “I completely understand now.” Victor, however, will be too busy feeling betrayed by the fact that Chris and Yuuri have known each other for _years_ , that they danced together before Chris moved his career’s focus to acting, to properly gloat over his Yuuri and how easy it is to fall for him.)

* * *

Phichit, unfortunately enough, is decidedly _not_ in love. With anyone or with this case. It wasn’t that difficult making himself an indispensible stagehand at the theater where Victor would soon be starring in a new musical, but all the accidents that had Victor so worried were either ignored by the other cast members or, according to the stage crew, uncontrollable but completely natural accidents. Some then mentioned Victor’s dramatics; others claimed that while he was still a star, he would probably have to retire soon as he was getting too old for their line of work. Everything indicated that Victor was either paranoid and blowing things out of proportion or that he was trying to build drama and excitement into what critics claimed had to be the final stage of his career.

Phichit, however, could remember how scared Victor had been when he first walked into the office. Perhaps more importantly, he had been the recipient of Yuuri’s years of gushing over the man, his performances, his interviews, and his kindness. Phichit knew Victor was dramatic, but he also knew that there was no way the man had concealed from the world—and his most dedicated fanboy, one Yuuri Katsuki—that he was so addicted to drama that he would stage accidents to make it look like someone was trying to kill him.

No, someone hated Victor Nikiforov. But in the cutthroat world of the stage, who hated him enough to want him dead?

* * *

“Everyone wants him dead. I want him dead. I’d kill that asshole myself if it wouldn’t ruin my perfect record of not killing assholes simply because they’re assholes.”

Chulanont sighs. His face says that he regrets coming to Yuri for help, but Yuri has regretted every moment he’s known the two-bit fake psychic wannabe detective, so it’s about time some of that regret gets pushed back onto him. But Victor, for all that the old man is a pain and an asshole, is family. So Yuri finds himself sighing too and lowering his voice. “Look, no one actually hates the old man. They want to beat him in auditions and not play second fiddle to him any more, but the whole damn world loves him, even those losers stuck in his shadow. But he’s forgetful and a complete pain in the ass, so if someone wants to kill him it’s probably because he’s pissed them off for that.”

Chulanont nods and begins to walk away, but Yuri needs to make one thing perfectly clear: “If he’s not still alive when I finish this serial killer case, you better be dead too.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” comes Chulanont’s insufferable grin and obnoxious reply. “Yuuri’s guarding him!”

* * *

Yuuri is a terrible guard. He doesn’t know why Phichit has him do these things, how Phichit talks him into doing these things. He doesn’t know how he was talked into dancing to Britney Spears as part of the seventh grade talent show. He doesn’t know how was talked into taking pole dancing classes and later teaching them. He definitely doesn’t know how Phichit talked him into joining in his mad venture and be the partner to a fake psychic detective in the first place, but that is a well-worn worry and his new worries command much more of Yuuri’s interest. Worries like, How did Phichit talk him into being the twenty-four hours, seven days a week bodyguard for the most gorgeous man in existence when part of those twenty-four hours, seven days a week include his pole dancing classes?

How could he just forget that Victor—the acting genius he has had a crush on since he was young and Minako took him to see a production of _Newsies_ Victor had starred in when he was just beginning to become known as an actor—would see him wearing booty shorts and working a pole if he agreed to Phichit’s plan? Worse, how was he supposed to _protect_ Victor as a guard should if something happened while he was wrapped around a pole in said booty shorts?

Not that Victor seems to need protecting at the moment, besides from himself as he walked into three different poles before he settled in a corner of the room to watch. And maybe Yuuri should check on him as soon as he finishes this demonstration and lets his students work on replicating the move—he’s not sure Victor has breathed or blinked since they walked into this studio, and Phichit would kill him if he let their client die because his automatic functions stopped working in the face of learning that his bodyguard and pretend-boyfriend wrapped himself around a pole twice a week to teach, more than that for his own private practices (which Victor will never learn about, because those practices are officially on hold until he no longer has a gorgeous Russian shadow).

God, this is embarrassing. How does Phichit talk him into these things?

* * *

(“Chris! _Chris_. He pole dances. He is so beautiful and I am so gay and I am going to _die_.”

“Mmmm, yes chérie. I know. I told you we’ve danced together before, and it wasn’t, as they say, strictly ballroom. Let me tell you, his thighs feel as good when they’re wrapped around a pole as they look.”

“ _Chris!!!”_ )

* * *

The first time Phichit sees Yuuri and Victor together outside of his office and firmly in the role of boyfriends, it takes everything in him to not fall out of the rafters where he is rigging a light and to his death on the floor below. Victor is an enthusiastic boyfriend, wrapping Yuuri up in greedy arms, cooing over his blushing partner, and proudly introducing Yuuri to everyone near him, with “near” being generously defined as everyone he can see at the current moment, no matter their physical location. Yuuri, predictably, is stuttering and bashful, but it isn’t until he grabs Victor’s hand and firmly holds the other man next to him so that Victor can’t go fluttering off to drag a new victim to meet Yuuri that Phichit nearly falls to his death out of shock. It’s not that Phichit thought that Yuuri would half-ass his job of bodyguard to the gorgeous and flighty; it’s just that he never expected Yuuri would end up so territorial of said gorgeous and flighty.

Phichit is _delighted_. His _phone_ is delighted. His folder full of bribery images to get Yuuri to do what he wants is, perhaps, the _most_ delighted.

Others, however, seem less than thrilled, and this is half the reason why Phichit set Yuuri and Victor up in the first place: he wanted to see whether anyone had a reaction that could be considered too strong to the famously elusive bachelor of the Broadway world finding himself love. For instance, the most recent victim of Victor’s bright-eyed announcement of his newfound romantic fidelity is a dark-haired man who looked Yuuri dead in the eyes, told him to take care and be happy while happiness was possible, and left the room bawling. Which perhaps is not indicative of a murderous streak, but does seem to say something.

(Later, Phichit will learn that Georgi Popovich is naturally full of emotion, that while he has stayed in Victor’s shadow for years, being in said shadow has allowed him to pursue his one true passion—romance—rather than having to focus too much time on a career. Georgi weeps not out of jealousy or rage but because love is precious and seeing other people experience it is a thing of beauty. Or whatever nonsense it is that Georgi says. It’s awfully hard to understand when the person you’re trying to subtly interrogate bursts into tears and flings himself on you partway through your questioning.)

* * *

Yuuri has watched Victor perform for years. He was a small thing when Victor first burst exuberantly into his life, and he couldn’t help but watch Victor’s sky-rocketing career with bated breath. Sitting in an empty theater, watching his pretend boyfriend strut in heels and sing about how the sex is in the heel, he notices something else. Not that Victor isn’t putting his heart into this rehearsal in the same way his heart is always put in his performances, not that he doesn’t make a phenomenal drag queen, not that the rest of the cast doesn’t follow his light like moths, but that he gives this character a depth he hasn’t given others. That underneath his sparkle and flirt and sass there is a shade of melancholy even his tragic characters had never received.

Yuuri sits back, eyes focused on Victor, barely noticing the other people on the stage as he wonders why someone who so decidedly belongs on Broadway is finding himself off the stage and in the middle of a thwarted murderer’s plots.

* * *

The thing is, for all that Yuuri has loved theater and performances and ballet and Victor for as long as Phichit has known him—which is, if he says so himself, practically forever if you count best-friend time as being longer and richer than real time—Phichit doesn’t actually know much about the world of on-stage performances. He doesn’t understand what he’s seen of this performance, doesn’t understand why the insipid main character is so upset when his love interest leaves him in the first act or why he’s pretty sure that the actress playing said love interest is the real-life sibling of the actor playing the main character, or why Georgi, who was clearly born to play _Wicked_ ’s Elphaba, is playing the father of the main character in this show. However, he’s sure his bestie can explain things to him.

His confidence is shattered, and his phone screen would be as well if not for some quick juggling, when he receives a text message from Yuuri: _Victor pointed out that if I’m to watch him all the time, we have to sleep together? So . . . should he come to our place or . . . ?_

And like, okay, this is an important thing that Phichit should have thought through, in part because 24/7 surveillance means _24/7 surveillance_ , but also because this means he can’t hash the case out with Yuuri the way he normally does. Can’t ask if Sara and Mickey are really siblings, can’t ask if the actor playing the boxer is really as lacking in self-awareness as he seems and make bets about what “JJ” stands for, can’t tease Yuuri about how often Victor’s eyes strayed to him while he strutted his stuff. He might have to _google_ the plot of _Kinky Boots_ , which would be a low for him. But also, where the two lovebirds should stay is important because it wouldn’t do for Victor to spend too much time around him and realize Phichit isn’t psychic, but it also wouldn’t do for someone to be trying to kill Victor for a reason like the actor lured the murderer’s loved one into the apartment he’s renting while the show is in town and did unseemly things to said loved one and then doing the same unseemly things to his best friend, platonic soul mate and anxious son Katsuki Yuuri, during his friend’s determined efforts to help Phichit protect the man. And while Phichit is pretty darn sure Victor hasn’t done anything unseemly, he weighs that against the safety of his best friend and cheerily tells Yuuri to bring Victor home, they’ll make it work.

* * *

Phichit blearily stares over the rim of his coffee mug at the man whose dog is on their couch despite the apartment’s firm “no pets” policy and who is cheerily wrapped around the shoulders of his best friend, who looks like he has seen some shit and has just escaped the confines of that nightmare to return to civilization as the battered shell of the man he used to be. Like Robin Williams’s character in _Jumanji_. Which, admittedly, is how Yuuri looks every morning, just without the human barnacle latched onto him, but the juxtaposition of cheeriness and death incarnate is disconcerting to say the least. Victor is enthusiastically detailing their plan for the day, fingers tapping at his phone as he tries to negotiate their differing schedules, when Phichit catches the soulless eyes of the only person he would take a bullet for and sees in them a desire to murder Victor himself.

Maybe they won’t be able to make it work.

* * *

Phichit, Victor learns that first night staying with them, is Yuuri’s roommate and best friend. They have never been together romantically, which would be weird because Phichit considers Yuuri to be his son. Or something. He’s not sure he understands what all Phichit is saying as he waxes eloquently on the greatness that is one Yuuri Katsuki while Yuuri Katsuki himself blushes furiously and hides behind Makkachin, but he takes notes because this man will surely join Chris as the second best man at their wedding. Victor knows he has great charms, but he is unwilling to risk pissing off one half of their best man duo as that would surely hurt their wedding. A wedding that Phichit cannot tell him anything about despite his entreaties because, _apparently_ , being psychic doesn’t work like that.

That’s fine; he’ll just have to figure out what kind of wedding cake they should get without psychic help.

* * *

“Do you have anything yet?” Yuuri had been trying to watch the practice taking place in front of him and not just drool over Victor in heels and a miniskirt when he felt a presence slide into the seat behind and to the left of him. Phichit has spent an absurd amount of time sneaking up on him, and Yuuri had to develop a sixth sense for when the other man was around or resign himself to biweekly heart attacks. He developed the sixth sense.

“No.” The frustration is palpable even in Phichit’s muttered tone. “Nobody dislikes your boy—”

“He’s not my boy.”

“—enough to kill him, people who don’t like him are just really petty about him behind his back, and no one is obsessed with _your boy_ enough to kill him for that either.”

Yuuri ignores the emphasis Phichit puts on those words even though they make his heartrate speed up. Victor is his but only in the sense that it is for Victor’s protection and only for this brief amount of time, and he is practically making that a mantra with how often he finds himself repeating that to his foolish, hopeful heart that keeps trying to fling itself into Victor’s hands.

“So who does that leave as a suspect, then?”

“Nobody.”

The finality of that statement is punctuated by a sandbag crashing down from the rafters, missing Victor by only a few inches.

* * *

Yuri growls when he walks into the theater to see Chulanont and Katsudon fluttering uselessly around. He increases in volume when he realizes that, instead of fluttering around himself, Victor has wrapped himself around Katsudon; his vice grip doing a decent impression of a python while the rest of the cast and crew squawk around the edges of the stage.

He signed up to find murderers and lock their asses away in jail, not figure out whatever shit is happening here.

Which, what shit did happen here?

Victor and Chulanont open their mouths at the same time to inform him, and Yuri can feel the headache building behind his eyes. “Not you,” he growls, cutting them off and pointing instead at a serious, dark-haired man standing a little ways away from the squawkers. “You. Talk.”

Dark Hair and Deep Eyes turns out to be Otabek, the stage manager. He narrates in clipped tones, giving just enough detail to explain the events but not the abundance of detail that experience has told him Victor and Chulanont would give him.

Yuri can’t tell whether it’s because he’s really hot or because he’s not a colossal pain, but Yuri wants to kiss the man and maybe ask him out on a date when this is over. Which would be a terrible idea as his last three dates have gone so poorly Mila had to give him an intervention—it perhaps didn’t help that two of them were in an effort to distract himself from a certain fake psychic’s best friend’s Bambi eyes and break dancing skills—and also Otabek could be trying to murder Victor for all he knows.

Which, like, he wouldn’t _blame_ him for wanting to kill the Old Man, but he’s not bringing a thwarted murderer home to meet his dedushka.

Somehow, during this explanation, Chulanont has slipped away, a fact he only notices when a crash comes from the rafters followed by an exaggerated moan. Katsudon, in a voice that is not adorable at all, squeaks out “Phichit!” before dragging his human-sized fungus with him to the ladder leading upstairs. Mila shoots him an amused glance before following.

Yuri can feel his headache grow even as he begins to follow them.

* * *

Phichit snuck away while Otabek talked. He needed a chance to get up there and see if there were any clues in the rafters above the stage, and he knows this will be his only chance before Yurio gets his hands all over the scene. He catches Yuuri’s eye—who looks overwhelmed and confused with a pile of Russian clinging to him, but not in a _bad_ way—before slipping away. And then, after spending time looking at the end of a rope that has been purposely frayed, he announces his vision with a dramatic, soul-rattling moan.

He’s not sure which is more impressive, how quickly Yuuri managed to get to his side while Victor clung to him or how Victor managed to still cling to Yuuri when Yuuri moved that fast. However, this works quite well, as he can fling himself at the two, proclaiming that the spirits have told him that the breaking of the rope was no accident, and that therefore the culprit must be with them! _Who_ , Phichit asks, holding Victor’s face between the palms of his hands, _would want to hurt this beautiful face?_ He then collapses artistically against his best friend, letting Yuuri support his weight while Yurio swears, stomps over to the rope, and confirms Phichit’s vision.

* * *

Georgi has known Victor longer than he’s known anyone who isn’t related to him. They have worked together in countless shows, trading parts and practicing lines, pining after attractive boys (Victor) and girls (Georgi) and swooning into each other’s arms over how attractive their Flavor of the Month is. As they got older, they settled down. Georgi began pursuing one woman at a time with complete focus and thorough determination, while Victor . . . Victor, Georgi realizes with sudden clarity as he watches the man watch the scene over the shoulder of his boyfriend who is currently carrying their stagehand who seems to also apparently be possessed, had just stopped. Tapering off at the same time as Georgi became more committed, but instead of filling the time where he used to sigh over rom coms and the hair of dreamy boys, Victor had thrown his focus into his work. He had become a star, all right, but one without a life. And Georgi, his _first_ and _longest_ friend, hadn’t even noticed how empty his life was!

Georgi’s heart is in his eyes as he watches the two, vowing to support his friend’s new love with whatever it takes. Victor has found a love as beautiful as he is; he can feel in his _bones_ how good they will be for each other and how happy they will together. He frantically dabs the corner of his sleeve against his eyes, refusing to let the beauty of their love ruin his makeup, knowing it is probably a lost battle.

(Phichit, watching him with a photographer’s and a psychic’s eye for seeing the important moments that would be otherwise lost, firmly and finally scratches Georgi off his list of potential suspects and considers instead whether he should deputize Georgi to spy on the lovebirds for him to make sure his best friend is being treated well and to get him more photos for his blackmail folders.)

* * *

(Georgi isn’t the only one watching Victor and Yuuri. Eyes flicker between Yuri Plisetsky and Mila Babicheva who are searching the area and, in Yuri’s case, cursing everyone in the way and Victor and Yuuri. Looking at them, no one would guess Victor and Yuuri have known each other for less than a week, that their orbits around each other are quickly becoming less manufactured and more natural, that their glances at each other are wonder at the luck of having the other rather than the confidence that comes from time and requited love. No eyes would ever guess this, but they do look.)

* * *

Victor never has much of a problem getting along with his fellow actors. For the most part, he’s very likeable—albeit a bit prone to being forgetful and getting burned out before the end of a show’s run—so he gets along with the rest of the cast. Those who don’t like him he just, well, avoids. Not obviously, but he tries not to be alone with them lest things become unpleasant. When he was young he was involved in a show that had warring male leads; it was the worst show he had ever been involved in and he never wanted to bring that kind of toxic atmosphere to any production he was involved in. The only good drama in drama comes from people like Georgi, always pining and flinging himself into love more than his roles, or from the franticness of a misplaced wig twenty minutes to curtain.

All that to say that it is a bit startling, to say the least, when Mickey aggressively corners him to question him about his new relationship.

Which is not to say that he doesn’t take full advantage of the opportunity to enthuse about his new favorite topic: Katsuki Yuuri.

Little Yuri and Mila had left an hour ago after searching everything and lecturing everyone. And then Phichit had grabbed Yuuri and dragged him off somewhere, leaving Victor forlornly by himself. So really, Mickey’s timing is perfect, and it gives him a good chance to talk to the other actor, whom he usually doesn’t spend time with as the only person Mickey seems to like is his sister. Which is weird, but then again, Victor is an only child, so maybe it’s less weird than he thinks?

(He had confided this opinion to Chris once, who looked at him with a hint of confusion and an ocean of pity before informing him that Mickey’s obsession with Sara was, objectively, very weird.)

So he holds forth on the glory that is Katsuki Yuuri to Mickey and everyone who passes by (Sara, Otabek, Josef, Georgi, people come and go, but Yuuri’s beauty and kindness are eternal) until Yuuri, blushing and with a grinning Phichit at his side, comes to collect him.

Skipping over to snuggle into Yuuri, Victor thinks that he likes having someone to collect him.

* * *

Every night, Victor goes home with Yuuri and Phichit. He snuggles with Makkachin on their threadbare couch, helps make or clean up dinner, browses through his Instagram and provides commentary, and burrows himself a bit further each night into Yuuri’s bed, which on night one he had declared he had to share with Yuuri; what if someone tried to murder him in his sleep and Yuuri wasn’t around to protect him?

Yuuri is, quite understandably he thinks, overwhelmed. But also, he tries to explain to Phichit one night while Victor is in the middle of his detailed nighttime skincare routine, happy? Like, really happy?

Phichit looks up from petting one of hamsters, one of the many pets their no-pets-allowed apartment is housing. “Because you’re with Victor Nikiforov, cause of a thousand dreams, both innocent and wet?”

“What! Phichit! No!” It’s a good thing Victor’s nighttime skincare routine includes an accompaniment of female pop queens, otherwise there’s no way he wouldn’t have heard that screech and come to investigate. “It’s just, he’s really nice? And I knew he had to be, but he’s so sweet? And fun? And such a dork? And I just wasn’t expecting to like him so much. Or that he would like me so much.”

The stern look Phichit sends him is to be expected: “Everyone likes you. You are amazing. If he didn’t like you, I would have to kill him myself.”

“We still aren’t any closer to catching the person trying to kill Victor.”

Phichit gets quiet at the reminder, and Yuuri finally brings up what has been nagging him the last three days: “It’s been quieter at the theater recently. Victor mentioned that, since the last attempt, it’s as if the tension has gone out of the place rather than getting amped up.”

Phichit nods. “You’d think it would be the opposite, what with how close that last attempt got. But I’ve picked up the same thing.”

“Could anything have happened after the last attempt that convinced the murderer to give up? Or to at least stop trying for now?”

“Yurio showed up and yelled at everyone.”

Yuuri considers this. He’s not psychic, nor is he nearly as intuitive as Phichit is, but that doesn’t feel right. Perhaps because the police had got called on these attempts on Victor’s life once before. Perhaps because things didn’t begin to feel different until the next day; if Yurio had truly cowed the murderer, wouldn’t things have cleared up immediately?

“So you think something else happened to get the murderer off your boy toy’s back?”

“He’s not my boy toy, and yes? I think so. It’s been almost two weeks with nothing. Considering how close the murderer got last time to at least giving Victor a concussion, it’s weird that nothing has happened to finish the job in all this time.”

In the other room, Victor sings with Carly Rae Jepsen about running away with him while Phichit considers this, slowly brightening up for the first time in days as he warms up to this potential new angle to the case. “I think you might be right there, mister. Although, you know, if you worked with me full time, we might have realized this sooner.”

“Phichit, I can’t just quit my job.”

“Why not? I bet they don’t appreciate you the way I do, and the adorable seven year olds can learn ballet from someone else.”

“Phi, I need health insurance. You need health insurance. We both get health insurance because of me and—”

“Wait, I get health insurance though you?”

“ _Yes_. We’ve discussed this before. I also claim you as a dependent on my taxes.”

“Oh.” Yuuri can see Phichit rapidly thinking back to the last three times he’s been in life-threatening situations and the last seventeen times he’s gone to the emergency room. “Perhaps you shouldn’t quit your job.”

“What are we talking about?” Victor asks, freshly scrubbed, serumed, toned, and moisturized, and god but Yuuri is gay and Victor is pretty and Yuuri is weak.

“That Yuuri is singlehandedly keeping me alive and supporting me, and that if you want to keep dating my son you will have to plan on doing the same.”

Yuuri’s screech of “Phichit!” almost drowns out Victor, looking absolutely delighted, declaring, “Done!”

* * *

Things stay quiet. Well, not really. There are still murders and stalkings and suspicious events. Yuri and the Hag never really get a let down from work, which is . . . fine—Yuri doesn’t actually know what to do with himself when things are so quiet his boss starts encouraging him to use some of the vacation days he has stockpiled. Well, now he has an idea. Maybe start seeing shows at the local theater . . . not because he cares about theater. But it would be good to support the old man. He’s basically family, after all. And if he got to see some of the old man’s coworkers, or one particular coworker, that’s just a bonus.

Mila laughs heartily at him when he vaguely mentions this. Normally he would cuss her out for this, but Yakov, the police chief, told him off just yesterday for swearing while on duty, and he doesn’t want to get told off twice in two days. Also, the last time he did that while they weren’t on a case she had picked him up and carried him over her head for half an hour, during which time the mayor had showed up.

It sucked.

Things on the asshole trying to kill or maim the old man, though, have been quiet, so when Yuri receives a gilded invitation to the “Glorious Denouement of the Attempted Murder of Victor Nikiforov,” he fills out the RSVP notice rather than taking Chulanont’s invitation to the firing range and using it as target practice.

* * *

Phichit adores Yuuri: his big eyes, his inherent “oh you sweet summer child” quality, his excellent snark and attitude that slays all unsuspecting newcomers, his dedication to everything, his ability to be comforting only when he isn’t trying to be. His best friend has so many great qualities, but his observational skills aren’t usually one of them, as evidenced by Yuuri’s complete and total inability to tell when someone is hitting on him. (Although Phichit maintains that most of that is willful ignorance and denial coming from Yuuri, and isn’t it lucky that he had assigned Yuuri to work with Victor and Victor couldn’t be subtle if he tried? He should win a wingman award for this case.) However, Yuuri’s observation that something must have happened shortly after the last attempt on Victor proves sound, and after weeks of sleuthing, Phichit’s finally able to close the case and get Victor out of his apartment.

He has invited all the pertinent people back to the theater. Between the barely lit theater and the performed casualness of everyone around him, it feels very _Phantom of the Opera_ right now. Phichit doesn’t know whether a chandelier crash would create the perfect ambience or just make his life more difficult. He’s leaning toward the second, but Yuri Plisetsky is here and, in contrast to the actors, looking unimpressed, so it might just be worth it to arrange a dramatic crash.

He lets everyone stew for a few minutes while his eyes slowly sweep across the room. (Ciao Ciao, when he took Yuuri and Phichit in after Phichit’s freshman year of college because a murder in their dorm building had left them without a place to stay and he was concerned about their junk food intake versus how many times they both fell asleep in his intro to photography course that Phichit was taking for his major and Yuuri was taking because he had been bribed into joining, had taught him a lot of what he knew about observation and patience and connecting ideas to make great art. He taught Pichit nothing about creating atmosphere and drama, though; that was all Yuuri.) JJ looks pained, but that might just be because he can’t talk and isn’t the center of attention right now. Otabek looks impassive, which is pretty much usual for him except his eyes are cutting over to a scowling Yurio more often than seems usual; Phichit, A+ wingman that he is, will have to keep an eye on that. Sara is almost blatantly staring at Mila who is making eyes back at her; Phichit will leave that one alone as he’s pretty sure they can take care of themselves. Josef, the director, just seems exasperated. Mickey, per usual, is standing a half-step too close to his sister and glaring at all the men around Sara, clearly missing the real threat to his sister’s virtue. Georgi is sobbing delicately in the corner over his most recent break up, which adds an unexpected yet perfect touch to the mood. Victor is standing behind Yuuri with his arms wrapped around him, chin resting on Yuuri’s shoulder, whispering into Yuuri’s ear. Phichit would assume he’s whispering sweet nothings except Yuuri isn’t blushing, which means Victor’s instead probably sharing the details of Georgi’s breakup with one of the few people in the place who hasn’t heard about it in exhausting detail.

With one final glance around, Phichit steps forward. It’s show time.

* * *

Victor is impressed. Which, frankly, doesn’t happen often, but the way Phichit manages to hold the attention on himself with just a few conservative movements while allowing the mood of the theater to naturally thicken around them takes skill.

“Did he learn that from you?” He whispers into Yuuri’s ear, partly so he can feel Yuuri shiver in his arms, partly because he’s genuinely curious.

“Mmmm,” Yuuri hums, looking at Victor out of the corner of his eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Which is practically a yes, coming from Yuuri. He’s more than willing to believe that Phichit has quietly learned all sorts of things from Yuuri in their years of friendship, and he is enthusiastically telling him this when Phichit steps forward.

“Friends, we are gathered here today because one of you wants to be a murderer.”

Victor can hear Yura scoff from somewhere behind him, but that doesn’t change the effect it has on the rest of the group as they shift and awkwardly mumble before Phichit holds up a hand for silence.

“Luckily for my best friend’s love life, you were unsuccessful, but I cannot rest until you have been exposed.” Now Yuuri’s the one gently scoffing in his arms. “You baffled my psychic senses for too long, there were too many confusing emotions clouding the theater’s aura”—a pointed look at Georgi here, still quietly sniffing—“but it wasn’t until I started considering who might have a reason to kill Victor that I was led to any clarity. It wasn’t for his talent; if that were it, someone would have tried to kill him years ago. So what else could it be?”

Phichit addresses each person around the room individually, positing motives and then rejecting them before he stands directly in front of Mickey, his tone darkening subtly in a way that Victor notices but that he doubts others besides Mickey and maybe Yuuri will: “Or perhaps a brother who is obsessed with his sister, who has heard that the star he is working with is a playboy, and who wants to keep everyone away from his sister would take the time to threaten said star, only to learn the day after his last attempt that the star is both gay and in love with someone else?”

Mickey’s eyes are wide, Sara is glaring at him, and Victor wants to embrace the anger against Mickey that is bubbling just beyond his reach but he can’t, not with Sara looking like she’s about to behead him and Yura looking like he wants to lock him away for life. This man is an idiot who tried to murder him and he cares, he really does, but also Yuuri has stiffened in his arms and that is far more concerning right now.

“What is it?”

Yuuri whispers back under the cover of Yura’s yelling: “Now that we know who the murderer is, I guess we should break up, right?”

Victor can feel his heart clenching tight in his chest, can feel in his arms the desire to hold tighter and to draw back when Yuuri half-turns in his arms and he can get a better look at his face, all forced smile and broken eyes.

“Or,” Victor offers, brushing Yuuri’s hair off his forehead to get a better look at those eyes, “we can continue dating. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and Makkachin will never speak to me again if we break up. And my best friend has had to listen to me rave about you since we first met, so he might never speak to me as well. Also, I would be devastated without you because”—a pause to make sure Yuuri is truly hearing—“I love you.”

And _there’s_ the light in those eyes he loves so much.

* * *

Victor’s confessed to him and Yuuri’s heart feels like it could explode with joy, but there’s one more thing he has to do before they can date for real this time. Yuuri can’t date Victor if Victor doesn’t know the truth, he can’t continue to lie to Victor, and so the truth fumbles out of him instead of the _I love you, too_ he wants so desperately to say. For all that loving Victor has become as part of who he is as his dancing is, this is their _biggest secret_. If Victor chooses to, he could put Phichit behind bars for lying to the police and misrepresenting himself and his evidence in court and Yuuri would have to figure out a way to break him out and Yuuri would then probably end up in jail and maybe they’d be sent to some place like Alcatraz if Alcatraz is even open any more which he isn’t sure but if it is closed maybe they would open it up again just for them and would Victor visit him in Alcatr—

“Yuuri, love, I’ve known for a while that Phichit isn’t psychic.”

“ _What?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Chris, in his best man speech: "I would like to take a moment to remind you all that I knew about Yuuri's thighs *years* before Victor."  
> Yuuri: *dying*  
> Victor: *plotting murder*  
> Phichit: *LIVING, and revising his own best man speech on the fly*
> 
> Back in December a cold slayed me and I went through about three seasons of _Psych_ in a week. This has been in progress since then, and I am so glad to get this to you and out of my Word document.


End file.
